Dancing in the Dark
by StarCatcher1858
Summary: Twelve Royai one-shots to be posted daily until the Royai Day, inspired by songs. -Spoilers for chapter 108 in the 12th story, sorry guys!-
1. Singing in the Rain

**My contribution for the coming Royai Day. This will consist of 12 one-shots that will be posted daily until the Royai Day. These one-shots are inspired by songs, classical songs to be specific, all of the songs in Etude op 8 (there are twelve!) by Scriabin, to be more specific. XD**

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all its properties belong to Arakawa-sensei.**

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**Singing in the Rain**

There was always someone singing in the rain.

It was Roy's second year of studying alchemy with Master Hawkeye's house, and he realized that someone was always singing on rainy days. Sometimes it was a lady – a beautiful soprano, on other times it was a man – a deep bass. The two of them sang different songs from each other, but they were always singing their own songs. Sometimes they would sing together, though Roy would never know if they knew each other and sang together or their singing together was just a coincidence, but their songs matched with each other's. It was as if they were singing it in two voices: two different voices which were each melodious and beautiful, but harmonious to each other. Roy was pretty sure that the song (or both songs) had no words at all, but even if they had words at all, he wouldn't know, for all he could catch were beautiful melodies.

It took some time before Roy knew Riza had also always listened to the song in the rain. Being outside the study most of the time, Riza could have a better listening to the song, but she couldn't hear any words from the song, either. Riza was not someone who loved music, in fact, she had not heard anyone else sung since her mother's death, but she admitted that this song was beautiful. On some rainy nights, when one or both singers had finished singing, sometimes Roy and Riza would try to imitate the melody they heard. It was something they both enjoyed – both of them were cooped inside the house with nothing better to do on leisure than reading, and singing was a new yet welcomed addition. Quite oddly, when Roy left the Hawkeyes' home in 1902, the singing in the rain had stopped, too.

_point d'orgue_

They would say it was ironic: how they knew what song it actually was. It was on one extremely rare rainy night in Ishbal they heard the song again after they met in the Ishbal Massacre in 1908. It happened after Riza made her existence in Ishbal known to Roy. They were sitting outside their tents, huddling in front of the fire inside one of the ruined buildings the military had claimed which was close enough to the 'unsafe' areas which still had Ishballans 'running free'. There were no other soldiers other than themselves. They were sitting in complete silence when suddenly, 'the song in the rain' they used to listen to when they were children. It was Roy who broke the silence once the song ended.

"It is that song we used to listen in the rain," Roy said. Riza simply nodded, not knowing what to say. Not receiving any response, Roy tried to start the conversation again, "Why do you think it would be sung here, in Ishbal?" Riza shrugged, still not saying anything. Roy sighed. When he got her eyes on him, he immediately made eye contact, his eyes pleading to her, 'Say something, please.'

It worked. Riza replied to Roy's last question. "I don't know. Maybe it's an Ishballan song?"

Roy smiled. He liked to hear her voice. "That would be quite ironic. I mean, I've never heard that song other than in the rain. It must be some sort of a rain song, mustn't it?"

Riza shrugged again. The conversation died at that, and they returned to their own tents not half an hour later, both not knowing why they did so.

The next morning, the grounds were still wet from last night's rain. Roy, who just woke up and was eating breakfast, was approached by Maes Hughes.

"Yo, Roy," the bespectacled man greeted him.

Roy simply nodded. His mouth was too full of food, which was a bowl of totally bland gruel, to greet his best friend properly. Once he swallowed what he wouldn't call food when he was still back in Central, he greeted Maes, "Hey."

"Last night was a rare but pleasant incident, no? I mean, it rained. It was only a drizzle, but that's more than you can expect in this desert. Even the ground's still wet from the rain," Maes commented.

"Uh-huh," Roy mumbled, his mouth once more full of gruel. He suddenly remembered about the song, the one always sung in the rain, and thought Maes might know something about it. He was in the Investigations, after all, though songs might or might not have any connections to that… Roy quickly swallowed the gruel. "Hey, Hughes, do you know if there's a particular Ishballan song often sung here?"

Maes shook his head. "Nope. I mean, who would sing in a war?"

"Do you know anything about Ishballan songs?"

Maes rubbed his chin pensively. "Well, I might know some. There are some popular Ishballan folk songs often sung by Ishballan servants back in Central."

"Why the hell don't I know anything about that," Roy grumbled.

"Because you were studying alchemy when people started hiring Ishballans as servants," Maes started simply. "Why, is there a particular song you would ask about?"

"Well, I heard a song last night… And I've never heard it before."

"You think it's an Ishballan song just because you've never heard it? Aren't there many songs in the world? I mean, what makes you think it's Ishballan?" Maes raised an eyebrow at his friend.

"The tune does not sound like Amestrian, pop or folk."

"Ah, that makes sense. What was the song like?"

Roy hummed a bit of the tune he knew by heart. Maes frowned, listening in deep concentration, and when Roy finished humming his face lightened up.

"Well? Are you familiar with it?"

Maes nodded. "It _is_ an Ishballan song, just as you suspected. It is the Song of Rain. It is actually quite famous."

Roy raised his eyebrow. "The Song of Rain? Are you kidding me? I mean, why the hell do they have a Song of Rain in Ishbal?"

Maes shrugged. "I heard they sing the song when they wish for rain to their God, otherwise known as Ishbala."

Roy's eyebrow was still raised, but he nodded. Riza's guess was right: it was an Ishballan song. Mystery unrevealed.

_point d'orgue_

They have never heard the Ishballan Song of Rain anymore since the Ishbal Civil War. They were stationed at Eastern HQ not long after the war, along with Roy's four new subordinates. East City, being very close to the desert, had warm weather, too. On dry season, it rarely ever rained, just like in Ishbal. One day, the weather was warm to the point the officers were very tempted to undo their military jacket.

Roy stretched behind his desk, which was full of paperwork. He didn't feel like doing any of the paperwork at all, the weather being very warm, making him twice as lazy as usual on doing the paperwork. He yawned and eyed his First Lieutenant, who was diligently doing her share of his paperwork.

"Lieutenant," he called. "Don't you think it's the perfect time to sing the Song of Rain?"

Riza looked up, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don't you think it's a bit weird? Hughes said it is called the Song of Rain because they sing it when they are wishing for rain to their God. Yet they always sing it in the rain."

Riza laughed. "I suppose it is, Sir."

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**A/n: So what do you think? Was it good? Was it bad? It was surprisingly light-hearted for a conversation had in Ishbal o.o Anyway, if you want to try listening to the song, go to Youtube and type "Scriabin Etude op 8 no 1" in the search box. Oh, and... review please!**

**EDIT: page breaks/separator lines.**


	2. Judgment Day

**Big thanks to for ssadropout and TheFirstTree for reviewing, and to TheFirstTree and AutumnOwl for favoriting.**

**Disclaimer: If Fullmetal Alchemist belonged to me, Royai scenes would have taken place everywhere in the manga and anime, and not just in NWii games.**

**So here it is - based on Etude op 8 no 2 by Alexander Scriabin! This can be considered as an alternate ending for the manga which we will see in a matter of days since I'm pretty sure FMA won't end like this.**

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**Judgment Day**

It was the tensest week they had ever had. If they weren't so busy, if they hadn't so much work to be done, they wouldn't have buried themselves in their load of paperwork, like they were doing now, for they couldn't even concentrate. All they could think was about the announcement of the vote results. All they could think was the end of the week. All they could think was the fate of their commanding officers: Lieutenant General Roy Mustang and Colonel Riza Hawkeye.

It all began a month ago. After the final battle with Father, Hohenheim had restored all the other four Human Sacrifices' bodies. Not long after the end of the battle, the council of non-corrupt generals had decided to elect a new Fuhrer; among the candidates are Major General Olivier Milla Armstrong and Lieutenant General Roy Mustang. They had agreed upon an election to nominate the Fuhrer. The election was done very quickly. The preparation had not taken one week, and the election itself took place for about one week. In only two weeks, the results were announced: Roy Mustang was elected as Fuhrer. There would be two weeks before he was officially given the 'throne'.

Roy should have been contented with that – he nearly reached one of his main goals after all. But it wasn't he was not content, either, though some people might like to think otherwise. He just wanted to clear up things first. Not three hours after the election results were announced, Roy insisted to the council that the case of Ishbal Massacre to be taken to the court before he was named Fuhrer. The council had very kindly warned him about what might happen of Roy's 'unsafe move', but Roy didn't need to be told about that. He had been aware of what consequences he might have to face ever since Hughes declared his support at the end of the Ishbal massacre. His only regret about all that had happened was that he would drag Riza Hawkeye into this, whether he wanted it or not, whether he liked it or not. So they took the case to the Royal Court of Amestris. The court's decision was to leave it to the people. Every Amestrian citizen of 23 and above had to partake in a vote of three choices that would decide the fate of Ishbal Massacre participants: death sentence, exile from the country or nothing but a pledge to never partake in any form of genocide or humanism crime anymore.

It took a week for the council to prepare and commence the nation-wide voting. Roy had been questioned many times about his decision, but most of the time he only laughed it off and claimed that it was his first move of changing the country. The council would announce the vote results a week after it was commenced, and today was the day. That was why the officers in soon-to-be-Fuhrer Mustang's office, namely Lieutenant Colonels Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda, Major Vato Falman and Captain Fuery, had been restless and uneasy all day. They did not want to lose their beloved and well-respected Lieutenant General and Colonel. The four of them had been throwing questions among themselves in the office the whole week: "What if it were death sentence?" "Where would the Lieutenant General and Colonel go if it were exile?" "Who would Black Hayate stay with if it were death sentence?" "Can you please shut up and think positive?"

The vote results would be announced at Central Square and aired on every single radio station in Amestris at 5 p.m. sharp. It was only ten minutes to the important time, and the four battle-hardened men were nervous and tense. Their commanding officers, though, were surprisingly calm and at ease, even though they were the ones facing the judgment. They all were already standing among the enormous crowds of people in Central Square, lucky enough to be only four rows away from the podium. Murmurs and whispers could be heard all around them – people were busy discussing about what outcome would greet them. The whole Amestris was eager to know what fate awaited some of their soldiers.

It was finally the big time. Major General Olivier Milla Armstrong was going to be the one announcing the results. When the eldest of the Armstrong siblings stepped up the podium, it was as if the crowd was holding its breath – suddenly silent. The Major General began her short speech. She smirked, enjoying the tensely thrilled feeling of the people in front of her, waiting for her to announce what they were here for.

"Good evening, citizens of Amestris." She was aware that her voice reached the whole Amestris. "Now is the time for all of us to know the results of the vote that will decide the fates of the soldiers who participated in the Ishbal Massacre. We all know there are three choices that could be picked in the vote: death sentence, banishment from Amestris and a mere, non-harmful pledge taking. Before I announce the results…"

Olivier started speaking about the possibilities. If the most votes fell to death sentence, it would be commenced in a week from the announcement, at Central Square. The method of execution would be chopping the heads off the war veterans using the old guillotine Amestris had had since years before Bradley's reign. If it was banishment from Amestris, all of the criminals would have to be gone from Amestris in a week. If 'nothing-but-pledge' was most voted, the pledge would be taken in a week in Central Square, too.

Finally, Olivier finished her speech and opened a thin, blue folder. "In this folder are the results we are all waiting for." Of course, the generals in the council had known what the result was; "And Amestris had decided that all participants of the Ishbal Civil War are to be…" sharp inhales could be heard from the crowd, "pledge taking!"

The people all heaved relieved sighs. They all cheered and shouted in happiness. They would lose no more family, no more friends, no more comrades… Some of them hugged each other, some of them patted each other's backs and some other even began to dance.

"Hoorah, hoorah!" they all cheered. Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery took turns in shaking Mustang and Hawkeye's hand, each patting their shoulders when they shook hands.

"Congratulations," Havoc said. He was relieved, he was happy, he felt like he could walk and run again. He couldn't stop smiling as he reached out his hand to pat Hawkeye's arm.

When the men heard no reply from their commanding officers, they were all surprised to see tears of joy trickling down on the Lieutenant General and Colonel's cheeks. What surprised them most was that they suddenly hugged each other tight, as if not wanting to let each other go anymore, and when they broke up, they returned their subordinates' congratulations,

"Thank you."

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**A/n: I feel like I failed to portray the uneasy, restless feeling I get from this song. I mean, it was not as uneasy as I had wanted it to be. In fact, the 'good ending' theme was too long here, while it only took place for 2 (music) bars in the song o.o**

**Anyway, if you are interested on Youtube-ing the songs, I recommend the ones played by Horowitz, if any. I know not all songs have the Horowitz version, but the ones he plays should be the best ones, for I was told that he was Scriabin's own student (though I am too lazy to research about it XD).**

**And finally... Review, please!**


	3. Dancing in the Dark

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and all its properties. They belong to the epic Arakawa-sensei.**

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**Dancing in the Dark**

They were like dancing in the dark: They always kept on dancing, although they knew the consequences of dancing in the dark, that they might fall, trip on each other's foot or any other obstacles that might be in the room. At first they were very careful – they took cautious, slow steps, afraid of stepping on each other's feet. Little by little they were taken into the dance, forgetting all else around them. When they were too absorbed in the dance, their moves and speed uncontrollable as the music took over them, they would trip and fall, but only to get up and resume their dance. There were never any moments when they stopped, not even when they're tired, only when they fell, but they always stood up and danced as if the fall never happened. Their dance was brave and bold, as if nothing could stop them, as if nothing could part them. Their dance was swift and quick, _almost_ not able to be enjoyed. They danced as if they were fated to be.

If _he_ were asked, he would say it all started since he knew the title "Fuhrer". He would tell you his dream to be the Fuhrer since childhood: how he always proclaimed to his mother and sisters about his ambition and how he always told them he would join the military when he grew up. He would say that the military wasn't what he'd always thought, that it did not (always) protect the people. He would say that his interest in alchemy supported and was supported by this particular ambition of his. He would say that at first he was indeed scared, especially during and after the Ishbal War. But slowly he became accustomed to it, and though he still didn't liked it, became used to burning and the smell of burning flesh. He would proudly declare his ambition once more time, but would never say of his fears – especially his fear of dragging his aide, number one subordinate and partner wherever he went.

If _she_ were asked, she would say it all started since he told her all his 'foolish' (as he had said) ambition. It was then she had sworn to protect and secure that ambition, to make sure that the dream would be reached. She would say that she had thought and still thought it was a beautiful dream, because the country had always been corrupt, and she would like to help in changing it, too. She, too, since she was young, had known that the country had always been at war since Fuhrer King Bradley reigned. She would say that she had known nothing about politics, but had known at that time that there must be something wrong with a country if it always had war. She did not want to see more suffering, so she vowed herself to obey and remain loyal to that beautiful dream of his. That was why she vowed to protect him, so that the beautiful dream could be achieved. She too, like him, would never speak of her fears, of him constantly being in danger.

For short, all else was forgotten when they were working on that dream.

It was like dancing in the dark at will. They both knew it was dangerous, risky, not without consequences. They knew they might or might not gain something at the end. They knew that they could not be certain if the light would come. But they still did it all the same. They danced and danced and danced as if they would get a gold medal at the end. They did not decrease their speed just because it was dark – they even felt like increasing their speed to end their dance that might have been endless.

Like their planned coup – they knew it had high risks, but they still did it all the same. They knew it was one only way to change the country. They knew they were facing the immortals, the might-be-unbeatable's, but it didn't make them back down. It made them more thrilled, excited in a non-exciting sort of way, to get it done so their ambition could be reached, so that the country could see a beautiful future. They would never know what would come and meet them next, but they kept on pushing forward. They did it at will, but it was the only way. They did not want to see more suffering, more hungry stomachs, more wars. They wanted to be able to protect the ones valuable to them.

All the things they did were risky, but none of them were willing to quit: like dancing in the dark.

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**A/n: I honestly do not know how and why I wrote this. I mean, why as in why the story ran that way. I was listening to the song, typing the first paragraph and... it ran on its own. I had a difficult time depicting the 'happier' part of the song, that's why the 'happier' note might not seem to be there at all...**

**Anyway, if someone has listened to number 4 or wants to listen it in advance... Can I have suggestions on what theme I should do on it? I cannot really get a theme or a feeling out of it and distinguish it from number 5 and 6, in my opinion, all three are rather alike, for some reasons.**

**And last but not least... Review please! Reviews make me go around jumping when no one sees me, and I mean it!**


	4. The Morning Before

**So here it is! A few hours late, but here it is! Thanks to Cafe Au Liet, TheFirstTree and ssadropout for reviewing chapter 2 (sorry I forgot!), ssadropout and TheFirstTree for reviewing chapter 3 and Kari Nago for reviewing chapter 1. Thanks to Cheap Toaster and Veekalzhanez for favoriting, too!**

**Disclaimer: Arakawa-sama owns all!**

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**The Morning Before**

He hadn't actually needed to show up until eight in the morning, but he couldn't sleep anyway, so he arrived in the office at half past six. His lack of sleep the previous night was caused by the excitement and thrill for today – he was going to be inaugurated Fuhrer, after all. But this morning, when he practically waltzed into the empty large office that was now his, he wasn't nearly as thrilled as he'd imagined last night. He was excited, so very excited that he was afraid a Scar-like serial murderer would pop out of nowhere and destroy his glory moments.

He had spent half an hour inside the office he had been working for, and still no one showed up. Coming on time was not the same as coming early, perhaps. Or maybe his subordinates did come early, just not this early. He would never know – he always came on time, but never bothered to come much earlier, and his subordinates were always there when he arrived. A sudden paranoid fear took over him. What if his subordinates wouldn't come? What if they thought he weren't good enough to become Fuhrer, and ran away? What if they were about to come in the first place, but something prevented them from doing so, such as… such as… He couldn't bring himself to continue his train of thought.

"That's way too depressing, ugh. Can't I think of something more light-hearted on this supposed-to-be happy day?" Roy groaned. "Why haven't they shown up, anyway?"

The clock rung seven and Roy realized why exactly his subordinates hadn't shown up. "Yeah, that's right. It's still one hour before the preparation of the inauguration ceremony starts and there's no way they would be here by now. Ugh, there's no way anybody else has come into the HQ at all."

Roy paced on the expensive rugs in circles, and his eyes caught sight of the late Fuhrer's sword hanging on the wall, the years of his reign written under it. He smirked and spoke as if to the late Fuhrer himself, "I finally have your place, huh? I wonder what it feels like when the real work has come to me."

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was blue and clear, just how he liked it, almost clear of clouds. The trees and grass looked greener and fresher than ever. The birds were chirping happily, and Roy listened to them as if he'd never listened to birds before. To him, it was as if the birds were singing a new song especially for him. He was too absorbed in his good mood that he could not worry too much about anything. Granted, he was a bit nervous, but just a bit. Who wouldn't be nervous on his first official day as the Fuhrer, after all?

Roy paced around the office once more, examining every bit of the room that was now officially his. He observed every single spot and took note of every single speck of dust. Not that he minded the little bit of dust, anyway. Nothing was perfect in this world, and that went for the cleaners of the Fuhrer's office, too. He took a look at the books arranged tidily on the lowest shelf. Military Rules and Guidelines. Codes of Amestris. Geography of Amestris. History of Amestris. List of Amestrian Military Officers of 1915. And many other books of that kind.

"I seriously wonder how Bradley lived in this office with these kinds of boring books. I mean, there was always chess or alchemy books or something like that in my previous office. I wonder if Bradley kept his entertainments elsewhere instead of on the display shelves?" Roy mused to himself. He kept on looking at the shelves, however, and was now examining the second level of the shelf. There was the complete series of Encyclopedia Amestriana, the most complete and most expensive encyclopedia series in Amestris.

"Um, wow," Roy commented. The third and highest level of the shelf was occupied by several foreign merchandises, seemingly given by other countries' leaders or diplomats as thank-you gifts to Bradley. One of them was a cute, chibi replica of Bradley. Roy laughed. "Ha! I don't know Bradley could look so cute when chibified!" Roy frowned and poked at the top of the head. Suddenly the chibi statue's mouth opened and a tongue came out, and it looked as if Bradley was sticking his tongue at him. Intrigued, Roy repeatedly played with it. "I wonder if Bradley had known this little thing could stick his tongue at him."

Another half an hour had passed, and Roy had finished his examination on the office. He had seen everything he could see, he had opened everything he could open, he had touched everything he could touch, yet it was still half an hour away from the assembly time. Roy was now sitting on the long, comfortable couch in the office and sometimes bounced on it, like an excited little child. "It's only half an hour away, and I expect on of them to show up soon! Hawkeye, maybe. The boys did always say she comes early…"

_Speak of the devil, and the devil is here_. Just right after Roy finished speaking, Riza entered the office in her dress uniform, the one with the skirt, with her complete badges. "Good morning, Fuhrer, Sir! I was told by the janitor that you have come early," she saluted him.

"At ease, General. You know, I was under the impression you arrived at the office at six or something like that… but I was sorely mistaken."

Riza raised an eyebrow. "At six? Of course not, Sir. I need my rest, after all. What did you do here at six, Sir?"

Roy chuckled. "Me? At six? No way. What the hell do I do here at six? No, no. I came here at half to seven and no one was here, and let's say I was rather… surprised."

Riza nodded as her reply. She eyed his desk. "It seems you haven't gotten much paperwork, Fuhrer, Sir."

"Of course not. It's only the first day after all. And it's not yet the inauguration ceremony, too."

Riza's mouth formed an 'o'. She suddenly looked like she remembered something, and took his hand, shaking it. "Congratulations, Sir. For making it to the Fuhrer."

It was Roy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Congratulations? Again?"

"Yes, I haven't congratulated you properly. Congratulations for reaching your dream."

Roy chuckled. "No, being Fuhrer is only a part of my dream. My dream is to change the country, to see no more suffering, to see no more wars."

"I still think it's a beautiful dream."

"Good to hear you saying so, when you have put up with me so long. Anyway," he replied sincerely.

"Anyway what, Sir?"

"Thank you for always being there. Without you, I would probably never make it to this step. I mean, I would probably have shot my head off back in Ishbal."

"You're welcome, Sir."

And once more, they shook hands.

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**A/n: So that was it. If there's one story among these four that is most unconnected to the song, I believe this would be it. The original theme I took for the song is a peaceful morning, then I thought of a peaceful morning on Mustang's first day of Fuhrership... And there it goes. It goes kind of peacefully, without saying the word 'peace' at all, though... Right?**

**This can be considered as the continuation from the 2nd one-shot (Judgment Day), too.**

**So that's it. Review, please?**


	5. The Evening After

**Sorry for the late posting. I had a graduation party yesterday and didn't have time to complete this one before I had to go. Well, at least school days are over for me until mid-July. I had originally planned to post the sixth one after this, but it seems I can't, for my famiy in general are nagging at me to stop using the computer and join them in watching Case 39. I apologize for that, too.**

**Thank you for ssadropout and TheFirstTree for the kind reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I am sure everyone knows FMA doesn't belong to me?**

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**The Evening After**

She thought it was all a dream, but she realized it wasn't when she pinched herself, just to make sure. She knew it was totally out of character to pinch her arm just because she doubted the reality, but she needed to make sure that it wasn't a dream, all that happened today. But all in all, she was glad to know it happened in reality.

Time had flown too quickly for her that day. His inauguration ceremony had in reality taken 4 hours, but she felt like she had only been standing in the ceremony for half an hour. She was too dazed, too happy to really feel the flow of time. She too had received a large promotion, she had ascended seven ranks in total, and was now the Fuhrer's second in command. She had no time to think about her own promotion, though, she had only thought about his and his promotion only, about how he had finally achieved one of the major part of his- no, their dream, she mentally corrected.

She was now standing outside the Fuhrer's Mansion ballroom, on the veranda. The sun was setting and the view was very beautiful. No wonder they made the Fuhrer live here, she thought. She had never seen sunset this beautiful since she left her old home, the one she lived in with her father. In fact, she never thought there would be a place in Central where the sunset would seem so beautiful. She was so distraught in her own thoughts that she did not realize someone was approaching.

"Good evening, Major General. Care to explain why you are not enjoying yourself here?"

Surprised, she turned to see the handsome face of the newly inaugurated Fuhrer. She smiled softly. "I am enjoying myself, Fuhrer, Sir. I am enjoying the beauty of the sunset."

He stood beside her, leaning on the railing. "Indeed, the sunset is beautiful. But do you care to explain why you are here instead of inside? I mean, the celebration is inside, not here."

Riza did not turn to face Roy as she replied his question. "I think I don't enjoy the crowd so much, I'm sorry."

"Too noisy?" he offered.

Riza answered the question with a nod. They stayed silent for a while, until the orchestra played a beautiful, romantic-sounding song inside. Roy stood up straight and tapped Riza's shoulders lightly. "Care to have a dance, my lady?"

"It's been a while since I last danced," Riza declined politely.

"Come on. It wouldn't be right if the Fuhrer doesn't dance in his own party, right?" he tried to persuade her.

Riza thought for a while. It had indeed been a while since she last danced, and she wasn't really sure if she could remember the steps. She was a little bit afraid if she would, step on Roy's foot for example, and ruin the whole dance.

"Aren't there other females? I am sure I am not the only female military personnel here, and this party isn't really military only. Gracia Hughes seems to be a little bit lonely without the Brigadier General," she tried to decline again.

"Come on. You know it wouldn't be right if it isn't you. I mean, you are my second-in-command. The previous Fuhrer had a dance with his secretary, too, in his previous-also-last party," he reasoned.

"But I am not your secretary," she half teased.

"While you are not for the most party, you are also my secretary, in a way. I mean, it is always you who organize my paperwork and all."

Riza smiled. "Then I will. Just… forgive me if I suddenly step on your feet or something like that."

"It will be no problem. I'm sure I've danced with females with worse skills than you."

"Are you saying my skills are bad?" she teased.

"You know I didn't mean it to be like that," he retorted playfully. He stretched out an arm at her. "Well then, shall we?"

She took his arm. "Yes."

It seems Riza had underestimated her dancing skills, because not only she had remembered all the steps, but she had also danced fluently and gracefully. All the couples immediately stopped dancing not long after the Fuhrer and his partner entered the dance floor.

"What a couple!" someone said.

"Yes, it is actually kind of hard to believe that the woman is the Fuhrer's second in command instead of his wife," another one agreed. If Maes Hughes were still alive and heard this comment, he would no doubt jump and started nagging Roy about marriage again.

"They dance beautifully," yet another person joined the conversation. The people in the ballroom were awed. They couldn't alter their gaze from the only couple on the dance floor and when the song was over, they all cheered and clapped.

Roy raised an eyebrow at Riza. "I wasn't aware all the other couples left."

"Me too, Sir."

"It seems we were too absorbed in the dance."

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**A/n: Sorry this one ended in haste. I was trying to finish this as fast as possible. And about the ending, well, I seemed to think it is rather appropriate to leave it like this. About the rather romantic theme, I just happen to think number 5 is a romantic song.**

**About the one day posting delay... I will try to catch up on weekdays. It seems there's just no way I can catch up on weekends!**

**Oh, and last thing... review, please! They are very appreciated and make me a very happy writer.**


	6. Lullaby

**Alright. Sorry for the delay in posting. I had an etude exam yesterday, which means I have to play two etudes on the piano... including no. 12 of this collection XD Anyway, that caused me to arrive home later than on normal Sundays, and it was already late when I finished this, and my parents wouldn't allow me to use the internet. Well, at least it's still Sunday in several countries...**

**Big thanks to ssadropout and TheFirstTree for reviewing, and kiyomitakada for favoriting!**

**Disclaimer: If FMA belonged to me, we all know it wouldn't be as epic.**

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**Lullaby**

The Hawkeye Manor was a cold, big and empty place, and it was fairly normal if little children thought it a bit creepy. Riza Hawkeye used to be a child, too, and the Hawkeye Manor used to be a place she called home, and there were certain times when she considered her place of residence to be somewhat scary. It was a very large place to have two people only, really, not to mention the house had no warm atmosphere and the rooms were big. As a small child, Riza used to think there were monsters or ghosts behind the closed doors of the unused rooms. Her mother, being half-Ishballan, used to soothe her by teaching her prayers to the Ishbala and comfort her in hugs whenever she was afraid. But the prayers stopped working since her mother's death, and it was not like her father encouraged her praying at all. In fact, Berthold Hawkeye hated any form of prayer to gods. Sometimes, the darkness of the night would bring her nightmares that would keep her awake throughout the rest of the night, but she never dared to ask for comfort from her father anymore. On these sleepless nights, the thing Riza wished the most was for her mother to be alive again. Riza hated not being able to sleep, because it made her sleepy the next day, and her father was never pleased when Riza was sleepy during the day.

Riza had not entered school yet when her father took in an apprentice. She believed his name was Roy Mustang, Roy Horse or something along those lines. Although they rarely ever talked to each other, Roy's presence brought a bit of peace to Riza. The house was a little less empty with an additional person, for this older boy was always restless and he never seemed to stop speaking. That was to Riza, at least, for Roy was the person who talked the most that Riza had ever met. Not that Riza had met a lot of people, either, but still she considered Roy the most talkative person in her little world, even though he did not talk to her. Roy's presence in the house brought back a little bit of the warmth that used to be in the house a long time ago, too.

Roy's presence did little to help her at night, though. He was in a separate room from her, although right across the hall, Riza was certain her father wouldn't appreciate it if she went to Roy's room for company at night. Being the little child she was, her wild imagination allowed her to see the things adults couldn't – the ghosts of the night, the monsters of the dark, the spirits of the past. When she was younger, just recently after her mother's death, Riza was 'brave' enough to invade her father's room to ask for protection from these creatures, but her father soon expelled her with the excuses she talked in her sleep and he rarely slept in his room at all, and didn't want anyone there without his supervision. Riza would never know if she really talked in her sleep, but she never came back to her father's room after.

It was raining cats and dogs on that sleepless night. That night, Riza heard a voice from just across the hall. It was a song, to be specific. Riza had never heard the song before, but it sounded sweet and soothing. She was instantly reminded of her mother's voice, and the thought of her mother being a ghost passed her mind. But Riza, being the intelligent child she was, remembered that her mother had a beautiful alto voice, not a soft soprano like this. Charmed and rather scared, Riza continued to listen to the song, but fell asleep before the song was finished. The song had lulled her to sleep.

Riza had forgotten about the song the next morning. She remembered almost nothing about the heavy storm last night, only that she somehow managed to sleep soundly throughout the rain. Her father's apprentice was humming a soft tune as he was eating breakfast, a foreign, cheerful tune, but she paid no attention to it, to the childish soprano tone invading the silence of the kitchen.

The song from the previous night had come back that night, and the night after, and the night after that, and so on, until Riza was ten and not afraid of the dark, nor the ghosts of the night, nor the spirits of the past anymore, until her mind had matured and left all illogical thoughts aside. Riza had never forgotten the melody sung in soprano and had always considered it a mysterious lullaby that was coincidentally sung when she had needed it most.

Little did she know that it was Roy Mustang who sang the mysterious lullaby, and he only stopped singing when puberty hit him and his voice turned into a teenaged croak before finally maturing into deep baritone.

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**A/n: So how was it? I can't find a really good video of this on Youtube, but among the available three, I recommend the one that shows the score (can't remember who plays it). I will post number 7 in one or two hours just so there's a gap between these two, I finished it last night, too. There might be triple-updates today so that we will be on schedule.**

**For now... review, please!**


	7. Shadows

**Okay. I thought it would be... better to have a longer gap than two hours, so I made it a bit more than three. Thanks to ssadropout for the review, I didn't expect anyone would review that quick!**

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all its properties belong to The Cow.**

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**Shadows**

Ever since she was a child, Riza Hawkeye had never been fond of shadows. When she was not yet three, her mother fell ill and had been covered in shadows of her sickness, living in the shadows of her room since. Although a small child at the time, Riza had witnessed her mother's health deteriorating and finally passing away. Her mother's burial had been in the shadows, too. It was pouring at that time, with the sun peeking timidly from behind a thick grey cloud, and all the people who attended the funeral had been under the shadows of their umbrellas.

After her mother's death, her father took his turn to retreat to the shadows. He became so engrossed in his research, leaving only the shadow of the loving, happy family man he used to be. He spent so much in his shadowy study, researching various subjects. Riza had hated alchemy so much at that time, because she thought it was what stole her father away, leaving her alone. The subject of alchemy had been left untouched in the rare conversations between the father and daughter, leaving it a shadowy topic for young Riza. She had never been interested in learning it, though a little part of her wished that she understood it so her father would pay a little more attention to her instead to his new student. She felt like it was her fault for not understanding alchemy, but it was too late. She had abandoned any chances of learning alchemy in the shadows, if she had any to begin with.

It was not rare Riza felt like she was trapped inside the cold, stoic stones of the Hawkeye Manor. The house was so big yet it only held three people inside, leaving only several rooms lit. The little light available had left a shadowy look to the house, and Riza hated it. She hated to be trapped in the shadows. So often she wanted to break free, but she could not, for the dark shadows of the lonely manor was the only shelter she had in the world.

Riza grew up to be a young woman, not caring of the shadows anymore. The situations had forced her to mature more quickly than teenage girls her age, who mostly spent their time partying and having fun with the other sex. Riza did not have time for that – she had to take care of her sick father, who was withering away… in the shadows. Her father's apprentice, Roy Mustang, left the house when he turned seventeen to enlist to Amestris Military Academy, after completely mastering the basics of alchemy. Though Riza now had no one to share her father's attention, she somehow missed the older boy. They had never been close, for Riza had never been interested in alchemy and it had been Roy's passion of life, but when he left, Riza somehow felt like he had left her alone in the shadows.

Three years had passed since Roy Mustang left the Hawkeye Manor, and he had returned. The intention of his coming back was to ask for the secrets of the Flame Alchemy, for he wanted to be a State Alchemist. He said he wanted to change the world, but her father had dismissed all those dreams of his. Her father, and his master, was taken away by his sickness in the middle of their heated conversation, leaving young Riza alone. She had not heard her father asking his apprentice to take care of her, but she had arrived not so long after Roy's screaming for help. Roy had been the one to take care of the burial. When he told her about his dreams for the country, a warm feeling took over Riza's body – to be able to know that there was an alchemist with good intentions felt really good, and for once, she felt saved from the shadows. Without much thinking, she gave him the secrets that he had been looking for, the secrets to the Flame Alchemy, the ones engraved on her back.

Roy did not have much time to spend in the Hawkeye Manor – he had to go back to the Academy. Riza, moved by Roy's ambitions and having no other directions, enrolled at one of the military academies as well. There, she found out that she had a special ability to handle guns and was an excellent marksman. All of a sudden, she felt free: free to pursuit her talents and free to determine her own future. In the academy, she made some friends, too, her closest friend being Rebecca Catalina. However, she was pulled out of the academy to be put on the front lines; they said they were lacking snipers in Ishbal, and her special shooting abilities would be very helpful. She could not refuse; she had no other choice.

Being a sniper in Ishbal, it meant to be obscured in the shadows at all times. She had to make herself both invisible and invincible to the enemy. The feeling of being imprisoned behind shadows came back again. She felt like a hypocrite at all times: she was very well aware of how much she hated shadows, yet she always hid behind them, not allowing the others to see the sins she had committed. She felt guiltier when she realized that Roy Mustang, the person she bestowed the secrets of Flame Alchemy to, was there as well. She watched him annihilate the Ishballans from the shadows of his flames.

Now it was years after Ishbal, after all those things that happened in her childhood, yet she still hated shadows. In fact, she recently became scared at it. The threaten Pride had exposed to her, "I will always watch you from the shadows," had only increased her hate towards the shadows. Now Riza realized, she would never make peace with the shadows.

_point d'orgue_

As a child, Roy Mustang used to be fond of the shadows. He had always been intrigued at the funny shapes it could create. The shadows looked really mysterious, and he felt bound to investigate what was behind it. On chilly days, he found comfort in sitting in front of the fireplace, staring at the shadows created by the light from the fire.

His opinion on shadows did not really change until Ishbal. Then, he realized how cruel shadows could be. He could see the people he had killed, the lives he had taken from the shadows. He could see the murderers in his the shadows of the eyes of his fellow 'war buddies'. These shadows haunted him to the dreams, and since then, he did not really feel intrigued by the mystery behind the shadows anymore. In fact, he started to want to get rid of it.

His great ambition to change the country had included working from behind the shadows. This was one thing he always enjoyed no matter how the shadows of Ishbal haunted him. Working from behind the shadows meant using it as protection. It meant nobody would know what he had done. It was a side of the shadows he would always appreciate and like. He liked to think this was a different side of the shadows, a good one. Maybe these shadows would help him towards reaching his aspiration.

Roy Mustang finally decided he could never like shadows anymore, no matter how much stealth it provided. It had taken his most precious subordinate, and he was not about to not do anything. He would never forgive anything that took his subordinate away!

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**A/n: And once more time... review, please! I've not finished the eighth one yet, and receiving a review while finishing it would make me type quicker. No worries, though, I will definitely finish it... tomorrow the latest. Number eight is rather hard to write.**

**EDIT: page break and minor mistake.**


	8. Themselves: Passion, Loyalty, Strength

**Okay, I'm sorry we still aren't 'on schedule', but this one is hard to write. I mean, the writing itself didn't take too long, but it took me more than two days just to capture the inspiration and know what I want to write. I've asked for opinions on the song from two people: my brother and one of my best friends in real life, and both are fellow Royai fans though unconsciously. The wedding thing is from my friend. Great thanks for you, Glun, if you ever go to FFN and read this story!**

**Big thanks to Guest and ssadropout for the kind reviews! Since Guest is an anon and I can't reply to his/her review... I just want to tell Guest that I update (mostly) daily, and thank you! Thanks to TheFirstTree from the comment in the PM, too!**

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and Roy and Riza belong to Arakawa-sama.**

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**Themselves (Passion, Loyalty and Strength)**

They were often asked, before their marriage but after his inauguration as Fuhrer, what bond lay between them. They would often exchange a look and a smile between each other, and one of them would say, "It's difficult to word," while at the same time, the other would say, "It's simple." They wouldn't bother to relay the extended past they shared or her time serving under his command – even that couldn't explain the whole thing; that was only a minor part. They would never admit to public or even to their close friends their feelings for each other; they would never say it was love, either. It was more of passion, loyalty and strength in each other combined. It was rather interesting how their close friends had expected their marriage but the public, who felt like they knew the Hero of Ishbal and the Hawk's Eye in person, was totally shocked when the announcement was made.

Their wedding was nothing extravagant. They didn't have a wedding ceremony in the church because they didn't believe in God, let alone had a religion. They didn't have an extravagant reception, either; they only invited several close friends and relatives to dinner for a small celebration. The clothes they wore were nothing beautiful or expensive, too: Roy wore his best dress shirt and coat-and-tie, while Riza wore a simple, plain white satin dress. They had originally planned for Roy to wear his dress uniform for the wedding, but their friends were against it, hence the coat-and-tie. These things weren't important, not for them anyway, because they were… themselves. They didn't need those to be happy; all they needed were each other.

They were not an overly romantic couple, not in front of public, at least. Their displays of affection never went more than hugs around the shoulder and kisses on the cheek or forehead in public. They never said corny words or even "I love you" out loud in public, too, because they were… themselves. They never even said those words between themselves, when they were alone. It was clear that public, especially press, wanted to have a good romantic happily-ever-after story for their Fuhrer and First Lady, but they never gave them that. In fact, it actually amused them how they never did. They were too used to non-physical displays of affection: they didn't need words to say "I need you" or voice to declare "I love you". "I need you" and "I love you" weren't even close to describe their bond. Their exchanges of affection were "I will not let you die before me" and "I will always follow you even into Hell", and it was all they needed to know.

Their children, unlike children of the previous leaders of the country, were never publicly famous. People knew their Fuhrer had two children, a boy and a girl, and their names, too, but none of them knew their daily activities or such things that were usually aired over Amestris. Both he and she wanted their children to live in a family of love and humility, instead of extravagance and fame. They both knew their children didn't need it. What was the meaning of fame if you weren't the ones who earned it for yourselves, after all? Their family didn't live in the Fuhrer's majestic mansion, too. He, with her agreement and full support, declined when offered the previous Fuhrer's place of residence, and instead asked the council for a humble home. They built him and his family a non-extravagant, nice and warm-looking big house with three stories, still more than enough for them, but much better than the mansion they were first offered.

They wouldn't say they had a happily-ever-after ending because they knew it wasn't, not yet, anyway. They still had enough problems at hand, with disagreements here and there on the new government in the country. They realized they still should be aware at all times, just in case someone decided to do anything unexpected and unpleasant, such as… they would rather not even think about it. But they always kept themselves on guard, fully knowing that they still had yet to fully change the country, and that it wasn't a happily-ever-after ending, because they were… themselves.

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**A/n: And that is all. Rather short and drabble-ish but that is it. Review, please?**


	9. Quake

**All right. Sorry for the late update - we are (or I am, to be more exact) now two stories behind T.T This one is particularly difficult to write, not because of anything, just because... I think I'm coming down with a writer's block. If you read this, you'll see there's nothing impressive here other than it's a bit more lengthy than the previous ones, yet I took two days to write this. No worries, though, everything will be finished on the Royai Day because I will depart on my vacation at the night of Royai Day!**

**I can't wait for the scanlated version of 108. Not that I haven't read the spoilers, because I simply couldn't resist myself. But the spoilers aren't complete!**

**Thanks to TheFirstTree for reviewing.**

**Disclaimer: If FMA belonged to me, I would make Roy the main character and entitle it Flame Alchemist... or even better. I would make Roy and Riza the main characters and entitle it Royai. Weird? Yes, that's exactly why FMA doesn't belong to me.**

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**Quake**

That morning started peacefully, but Riza had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt like something bad was going to happen, but she couldn't sense on what it would be. They hadn't had news on serial murderers going around, not about the homunculi or loose chimeras either, but Riza just had a bad feeling, and she couldn't shake it off her mind. She had repeatedly told herself there was really nothing to worry off, yet she was still distracted by this feeling. She could not ignore it, either; she had tried to, and failed quite miserably. The feeling followed her everywhere and continued to bother her throughout the morning.

Maybe she should be proud because her instincts were still as sharp as before, or maybe she should regret for not acting upon instinct. But then again, this was really unpredictable. There was nothing she could do, even if she had known before, or maybe there was. She could have brought Roy, the Hughes family and the rest of her comrades as far as possible. But it would have been cruel to leave everyone else behind… She still regretted she didn't do something when she first had the bad feeling, though. She regretted scolding Black Hayate for being restless since the morning, while all the poor pup wanted to do, she was sure, was to inform her of the awaiting disaster.

That afternoon, a massive earthquake shook the grounds of Central. Tall buildings swung and crumble, the trees fell down like chopped by an invisible power and the grounds cracked. People all panicked – many were buried under their own homes and offices. It was supposed to be a sunny, bright Wednesday afternoon, but the sky was dark with the debris and dust that lingered in the air. It was supposed to be an afternoon full of joy and laughter of the children who played in the park, but it was filled with death and sorrow instead.

When it happened, she was just about to file some reports the Lieutenant General just finished. He finished unusually quickly that day, and she was rather pleased. She was just meters away from the filing cabinet when suddenly the grounds shook heavily. She could hear people screaming around her whilst she tried to be calm and remember what to do on an earthquake. She remembered something about avoiding windows and getting to be any near big, strong furniture if you couldn't get out of the building, and she was certain she did not have time to approach the exit at all. She was on the third floor after all. She put the reports hastily on the floor, undid her uniform jacket and used it to cover her head, crouching beside the filing cupboard. It looked sturdy enough after all. There were no people in the filing room at that time, save for her, and she could hear people panicking outside as she closed her eyes. The ground moved so heavily that it felt like she was on a carousel, spinning around and around. When it suddenly stopped shaking, she could hear several thuds and suddenly she was lying on the floor. The world suddenly turned black.

The female Colonel realized that she must have fallen unconscious when she opened her eyes, conscious once more. She was lying sprawled on the floor. Her position was rather awkward, but she still could see desks, chairs, table lamps, various books and papers scattered all around the room. Riza tried to lift herself up, but couldn't. She felt a heavy pain on her back, as if Brigadier General Alex Louis Armstrong was sitting on her back, no, maybe even heavier than that; and glanced at her back as best as she can in her position, lifting her neck a bit. She gasped as she saw the filing cupboard she was ducking beside had fallen on top of her. No wonder she felt like she was being crushed. The first thing that came to her mind after she registered the large piece of furniture crushing her was the Lieutenant General – Roy Mustang. Was he safe? He was still in their office when she left – if he was still there at the time of disaster… and their office was on the second floor. There was nothing he could hide under or beside in the office, unlike her. But on the positive side, there was no way he could be crushed by a large cupboard like her. She genuinely wished for his safety. Earthquake was one of the natural disasters that took most victims, after all. The second thought she had was on whether her bones were still intact or crushed like how she was feeling like. She couldn't make sure, though. She could only feel pain from her shoulder blade and lower, and she knew her left arm was trapped under the cupboard with the rest of her body. She was thankful that her right arm was not squeezed under the cupboard, though she was not sure what she could do with it in her position. There was nothing she could reach that could help her, after all.

Riza tried to move around as much as she can, seeing if she could slip out of the pressure of the cupboard, but soon found out that she couldn't. The cupboard was too heavy as it is, and despite being military, there was no way a woman like her could lift something like that on her own, especially not on her current position. Maybe Brigadier General Armstrong could, but he was no woman after all, and- look at all his muscles! She was soon tired from all the movements she attempted, and fell asleep uneasily on the carpeted floor of the filing room, sandwiched between the cupboard and the carpet.

She did not know how long she had been asleep when she woke up. She wore her watch on her left wrist, which was unfortunately under the cupboard, and she could not see the clock anywhere in the room. It probably fell during the earthquake. The filing room had no windows to outside, too, so she could not predict what time it was. She could only deduce that it must have been pretty long since she was getting thirsty, and hungry, too. What she thought weird was that nobody had come here to check for survivors at all. She knew she heard people outside when the earthquake happened, where were they? Her thoughts drifted back to her first thought when she first realized her being trapped – Roy Mustang. She could not help but to wonder about his safety again. Well, she was his bodyguard after all, she reasoned to herself. There were so many reasons for her to worry about him. She felt odd when she found out that she felt rather relieved when she thought about how earthquakes were natural disasters. That meant it was not some odd enemy causing trouble to humankind. But then again, to remember how the Father person made the grounds shake… But Father was already dead, and there was no way someone would have a power like that again… or was there?

The sound of footsteps suddenly aroused her from her thoughts. There was someone out there! She might get help; but first, she had to let that someone know about her presence in this darned empty room… What should she scream? 'Help' sounded too helpless to her liking. What about 'I'm here'? She needed to be quick, just in case the person out there thought no one was here and she was left all alone again, not that she minded being alone, but being alone _under_ a cupboard was…

"Help!" she finally yelled. She did not care whether it sounded helpless or not, all she cared was to get out of this damned position and ensure the safety of the Lieutenant General. 'I hope he is safe, I hope he is safe, I hope he is safe, I hope he is safe…'

A black-haired someone popped his head inside the room. What caught his eyes first was the state of disarray the room was it – it looked like a shipwreck. This black-haired man did not see Riza at first. "I thought I heard someone yell, from here?" he mumbled to himself.

"I'm here!" Riza called out again. She could see a person there, what was taking that person so long? Did he think she liked being in this position…

The person, or the man, to be exact, heard the yell and fully entered the room. He was surprised to see a blonde head and a fair-skinned hand sticking from under a cupboard. And didn't the blonde head look familiar…? Oh goodness, don't tell him that was the head of the blonde he had been looking for! He half rushed to the fallen cupboard only to have his suspicions confirmed. He squatted in front of her head.

"Err… Colonel Hawkeye?" He just had to convince himself it was her. It was unusual for her to be in a situation like this; it was usually him.

Wait. Uh, was it really the person she had been worrying for, the one in front of her? Reality was sometimes such a weird thing. Or maybe it was weird all the time. But whatever, at least she needn't worry about _him_ again. And she still needed to answer his question, too. "Whoever else would you think I am, sir?" she replied, her answer still a bit sarcastic despite her current position.

"Uh," was his awkward reply. He scratched his head, which was not itchy at all, awkwardly. "I'll get some help. I don't think I can lift that cupboard alone even if some of the files are already scattered." He stood up and walked out of the room. "Wait here," he said, and cringed when he realized how stupid he must have sounded. "Sorry, I kind of forgot about the… position you're in."

He could feel her glare at him even though his back was facing her. "Just go out and come back quickly, sir. I do not particularly feel like staying like this for more hours."

She did not have to wait long before he came back with ten other men, Heymans Breda and Alex Louis Armstrong among them. The cupboard was soon removed. Riza's legs were probably cramped or broken from the weight that crushed upon them. Either way, her whole body ached. One of the men, a medic, confirmed that her right leg was broken but her left leg was pretty much all right. She insisted that she could walk on her own, though, and Roy helped her up. She latched herself onto Roy's left arm and hopped with a leg, dragging her limp leg along.

Roy laughed. "There's no way you can make it outside like that! That's not even walking!"

Riza glared at him, but could come up with no retorts. Before she could protest, Brigadier General Armstrong lifted her and carried her throughout the walk outside. She was not really shocked when she saw the buildings around the HQ had all crumbled for the earthquake had been massive. Maybe 8 or higher on the scale, even.

The Brigadier General, Breda and the other eight men left Roy and Riza out on a safe place and left again, saying that they should go and search for other missing people. The two sat in silence for several moments.

"I was worried. I'm glad you're alive," Riza suddenly spoke, breaking their silence.

"That should've been my words," Roy disagreed light-heartedly. "I was very concerned, you know, the filing room was on the 3rd floor, though it's now barely above the ground."

Riza shook her head. She was about to start her usual words about not to worry about her for she was merely a subordinate, but suddenly another earthquake took place. It was quite massive, too, though not as massive as the first one, but enough to tear the grounds apart. The buildings sank lower to the ground. The ground between them cracked into two, and they flew to opposite directions.

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**A/n: Now let me explain to you about the song and the fic a bit. I mean, about the relations. All the parts of this story before Roy found Riza is the tense, fiery part of the song, or the first part. The more light-hearted moments up to the second last paragraph of the story is the calmer part in the song. As for the last paragraph, it is for the final tense and fiery part of the song. I know the length of the third part isn't equal in ratio, but I meant for you readers to imagine what happens next after this in relation to the rest of the song. Sorry for the hanging ending.**

**And last but not least... Review, please?**


	10. Chromatically Related

**I swear I was going to post this yesterday before I went to bed... But when I nearly finished this, like... the first paragraph of Riza's part, my mother demanded that I shut down the computer right then and tidy up my clothes drawer. My brother's is not tidier than mine, but she never tells him to tidy up it himself... But today I finished it only in... five minutes! XD**

**Oh... and Happy Royai Day everyone! Triple update today! Oh, and 108 is out, too! Since quite several hours ago, actually.**

**Thanks to ssadropout for the kind reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to the Cow-sama.**

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**Chromatically Related**

He used to like the color red. When he was a child, he would stare at the fireplace, awed at the beauty of the fire. When he was a child, too, he used to wear a red jacket over his shirt all the time, much like Edward Elric. Red used to be his favorite color. His favorite toy cars were all red. Tomatoes and apples used to be his favorite fruits, too, though that was not only because of they were red in color.

When he went to study alchemy under Master Hawkeye, his fondness of the brilliant color increased, his reason being his Master's pretty daughter's eyes were almost in that shade. He thought those eyes were unique, although not really red in color, but they were nearly red, and very beautiful, too. When he grew up to a teenage and found out that Master Hawkeye was researching about the Flame Alchemy, he was totally intrigued. Unfortunately Master Hawkeye refused to teach him it and he left for the military.

He thought he could never like the color red again when he came back to the Hawkeye Manor after three years of being in the Military Academy. His Master died coughing blood right in front of him only hours after his arrival. Then only hours after his Master's funeral he saw his Master's 'masterpiece', which was a tattoo off the Flame Alchemy array on his Master's own daughter's back, drawn with red ink. He was wrong, though, because he was soon fascinated with the color he could spark only by drawing an array.

During and after Ishbal, Roy decided he couldn't take more of the color red. He was tired of it. No, he was sick of it. He had seen too much blood on the bloody sand. He had seen too much of his own flames licking the bodies of the Ishballans. The view of the red of his flames combined with the red of Ishballan blood was sickening. He couldn't even understand how Basque Gran could still be proud with his title of the Iron Blood Alchemist. If he were Gran, he would have demanded the Fuhrer to change his title.

But when he saw those pair of eyes again, the ones almost red in color but as red as the ones that belonged to the Ishballans, he thought he fell in love with the color again. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. It was confusing, really, how he could hate the color red for the whole day but suddenly turned to like it when he made eye contact with her.

When he was made commander to the new State Alchemist Edward Elric, he was almost disgusted at how the boy could wear and bring that red coat along with him wherever he went. Of course, he'd forgotten about those times in the past where he insisted he couldn't go out of the house without his ruby red jacket. But then he'd be reminded of that pair of eyes, and understood how the younger alchemist could fall in love with such a bold color.

Yet recently he decided he couldn't bear red, again. There was no way he could bear seeing such a bloody color after seeing his own beloved Lieutenant's throat slit and blood, lots of blood, poured from the cut. How could he stand that color when it was the last color he saw before he went blind?

And when he was reminded of those almost-red orbs, he loved the color again.

It was funny, really, the love and hate relationship of Roy Mustang with the color red.

_point d'orgue_

She had never been fond of that particular color. She found it way too bold, sticking out like a sore thumb. And a sore thumb itself was red in color. No, how could she ever like that color when her deceased mother was dressed in red in her own funeral? She began to hate red more and more and more and more when her father scarred her sense of individuality with that offending color. She knew her skin must have been bloody and swelling red after _that_. And no, she wasn't about to change her opinion about the color, at all.

She had always hated her eyes, too. Their color was too weird and they stood out way too much to her liking. She remembered when she was still at school the children would tease her for her different eye color. The others had blue eyes and she was the only one who had brown-almost-red eyes. Some even said she must have Ishballan blood in her for her odd colored eyes, and stayed away from her, because Ishballans were hated. Ishballans were supposed to be slaves, they said. Riza had never known anything about the origins of her blood because both her parents were secluded from the rest of their families; she never had the chance to find out.

And then there was the Ishbal Massacre. The view and scent of blood was really too much – she definitely couldn't stand more of the red. The tan sand had even turned red, and she was sure she couldn't bear the view anymore: both the sand and the red. But whenever she looked at the mirror, she saw those two odd-colored eyes staring back at her, and no matter how she hated the color, it would never change. It would always stay there, haunting her with the past. She sometimes wondered if the things her schoolmates in her childhood said were true, if she had Ishballan blood in her. Sometimes she felt very tempted to find out; she recently found out she had a grandfather in the army, a general, too, but then she felt she didn't want to know. If she really had Ishballan blood in her, she would feel twice, no, thrice as guilty as she was now about the Massacre. She would be murdering her own kin if it turned out that she had Ishballan blood pouring in her veins. So no, she wasn't about to find out.

And for all the bloodshed that happened after that, for all the despair caused by the color red, Riza Hawkeye was never going to like the color.

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**A/n: Too much like number seven, yes? And the relations between the title and the story might be very confusing, too. So let me explain. First of all, the only thing I can get from the song is the chromatics, can't think of anything else, and that's how I came up with the title. Then I wiki-ed 'chromatic' just to see if it has another meaning other than what it means in music, and found out that (for short) it means 'colored' (usually red). Go wiki it yourself, I am too lazy to get the exact sentences. So yes, hence the title and the color red.**

**Two more to go! Review, please!**

**EDIT: page break.**


	11. Alone in the Crowd

**The second to last chapter! Hooray! Thanks to BlackBrightField2007 for reviewing number 5.**

**Disclaimer: The now-over FMA belongs to the one and only Arakawa-sama.**

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**Alone in the Crowd**

Since the transfer of his subordinates, Roy Mustang's office felt very empty. Well, technically it was, save for he himself, the pieces of furniture, the books and the paper works. It had been a long, long time since he did the paper works on his own will, not that he was that willing, or, maybe he had never done it on his own will before. He was always reluctant about these seemingly useless paper works, and now there were no subordinates to help him with it. Bradley had scattered them all and even taken one hostage. And as much as he did not like or enjoyed it, he had to bear with it, because one fishy move and all would be lost.

He had signed those paper works almost non-stop since his arrival at the office that morning. His arms were tired and his legs were stiff from being cramped in the small space under his desk. He glanced at the clock. Ah, it was almost lunchtime. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to take his break a little bit early. His paper works were almost completed, after all. There was nothing on his schedule today, too, save for paper work, so he needn't hurry at all. He stood up from his chair and stretched a bit. People would never guess that sitting could be so tiring.

He walked to the cafeteria. It was still quite empty, since he had taken his break ten minutes early. He decided he should let his legs could use some exercise, so he did not directly get his food and sit down. Ah, right. He hadn't had any toilet breaks since eight and his bladder was demanding to be released. He walked, not so casually, for who could be casual in such a situation, but his way of walking could not be categorized as tense or ready to attack, either. Well, whatever his walking style was, he spent almost fifteen minutes in the toilet just because it was so full. He didn't get it – it was not yet lunch break yet how could the toilet be so full? Unfortunately, being a Colonel did not mean he could suddenly get to the forefront of the queue, so he had to wait patiently, as patient as one could be for waiting for exactly thirteen minutes and eight seconds.

When he arrived back at the cafeteria, it was almost full already. He really had no idea how it could be so full in a matter of minutes. He was sure he hadn't been away for so long! Grumbling, he entered the queue. He was stuck in a long queue twice this day! He finally was able to get his food. His dark eyes searched the cafeteria for signs of his- no, now she was the Fuhrer's First Lieutenant. Anger always rose whenever he reminded himself that she no longer belonged to him, no longer worked under him. But it was his own fault anyway; he had been the careless one! He snapped out of his thoughts, looking for the First Lieutenant once more. But for once today, he couldn't find her. Well, maybe the Fuhrer held her back… for a meeting, maybe? A not-so-friendly meeting between a human and a homunculus? He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case. Since he couldn't find his usual lunch company, he sat down by himself at a table at the corner and started eating. He didn't have much time to waste; soon he would have to go back and lock himself in his office again, signing paper works like crazy, as much as paper works could drive someone insane.

The cafeteria was crowded and noisy; officers were chatting among each other happily. They really had no idea what was going on here or who they actually served, he thought. Sometimes he wished he hadn't discovered the dark secrets of the government of Amestris. That would have saved him from losing his precious subordinates. He sighed. He couldn't change the past, and he wasn't about to sit and whine about it. His knowledge might be harmful to him and his now-ex-subordinates, but he might be able to save lots of people with it.

Even though the cafeteria was so crowded, even though the people around him were so noisy, he couldn't help but to feel alone. Sitting alone like this, he never felt lonelier before.

He quickly finished his food and went back to his office for more torturous hours of reading and signing those evil things they called paperwork. He hoped he would be able to see her tomorrow, and nothing more happened to her.

_point d'orgue_

She glanced at the clock in the large meeting room. It was already time for lunch break, but it seemed this meeting wouldn't end soon. The Fuhrer was discussing with the council of Generals about… something. She wasn't sure, she hadn't been paying attention. How could she pay attention with such a heavy murderous aura surrounding her? She was somehow sure that the homunculus that played as the Fuhrer's child, Pride or Selim whichever it was, was here. She could feel that murderous intent from the shadows. She shivered involuntarily. When Pride said he would watch her everywhere, he meant it. The feeling of being watched had never left her since their little encounter outside the Fuhrer's Mansion.

She almost heaved a sigh, but refrained from doing so. Showing a sign of weakness or weariness in front of the homunculi wasn't going to be good. She really wanted to have that lunch break of hers… now, because she knew the Fuhrer would let her have a substitute lunch break after this meeting ended. Not that she was hungry or anything, she had actually lost appetite since she knew she was being watched even when she was doing something as harmful as eating, and who liked to be watched while eating after all? But lunch breaks were the only way she could meet the Colonel. She knew he had been worried about her safety since her direct transfer to the lion's cage. And she didn't want to worry him more just because she was held back by something like this stupid meeting.

"What do you think about it, First Lieutenant?" the Fuhrer suddenly addressed her, surprising her out of her reverie.

"Pardon, Sir?" she replied with a question, surprised.

"You were spacing out, First Lieutenant. Please refrain from doing so next time," the Fuhrer scolded- no, warned- no, his tone wasn't that sharp. His tone was almost strictly military, but it was as if he was telling a child what to do at the same time.

"Yes, Sir. Please forgive my inattention," she apologized… not so sincerely.

"Forgiven, First Lieutenant." The Fuhrer then continued his seemingly heated discussion with the council of generals. No, only some of the generals looked heated; the Fuhrer himself looked perfectly calm. It was odd, to her, that he was actually Wrath among the homunculus. His face and attitude did not show it at all… but of course, appearances are deceiving.

She glanced at the clock again. Twenty minutes had passed from the start of the lunch break. She almost couldn't resist sighing, but resisted anyway, since she still could. In the room full of higher-ups debating, she found herself feeling oddly lonely. It was not like she was completely ignored in the conversation; she had been addressed more than several times, and it was actually rather flattering, for she was only a First Lieutenant and the people that addressed her were generals. Still she couldn't shake this feeling of loneliness ever since her transfer to the Fuhrer's office, and especially since her encounter with the shadows- Pride.

In this room full of people, she felt lonely like she never felt before.

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**A/n: ****I must say I am rather satisfied with this. This idea has been staying in my mind since before I completed number 1. I hope you like it, too. And uh, well, review please?**

**EDIT: FFN messed up with my separator lines D: _point d'orgue _is my separator line... for now. I will take a look and fix the previous chapters. Please tell me if you found something confusing (as for no separator lines).**


	12. Moments

**Complete at last! I hope you enjoy this one. Although this song (op 8 no 12) is an epic song, this story is nothing in comparison. It is not epic at all, nor it's the best in this collection... But I think this piece fits the etude, though I must admit it's not so well-written. I wrote a bit of this while listening to Riza's Bonne Nuit - her song in the Theme of Fullmetal Alchemist or something like that. Honestly, that is not my favorite of Orikasa's songs, nor it is the best (my favorite is Moon; Oririn sang it as Kuchiki Rukia from Bleach), but that song still seems fitting. This is the only piece I wrote while not listening to the song the entire time - some of the time I simply let the song play in my head instead of my ears. I know every bit of the song by heart... after playing it for five months o.O Okay, this is getting nonsensical. Ignore me.**

**Oh. And one more thing. Before I disclaim, I'm sorry the gaps between uploads are not so far so that this gets under other stories and seems like it's not updated.**

**Disclaimer: Both Fullmetal Alchemist and the Scriabin etudes DO NOT belong to me. I am only borrowing them for my own pleasure. **

**And Warning: Spoilers for 108, though not major, in this story! I highly recommend you to read it, though the spoilers might just seem like any other fan prediction (because there are stories made before 108 that have this kind of... ending).**

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**Moments**

They had been together for a long time. At first they didn't acknowledge each other much, but eventually they began to tolerate each other's company and soon enjoyed it. They had been together for so long that they could recognize what each other meant by looks and gestures only. They had been together for so long that time always passed so slowly when they were not in each other's company but so quickly when they were together. They had been together for so long that they could not even remember when their first meeting was (though they remembered how).

Of all things they could remember, the memories of their time together that stuck the most in their mind were the memories they got after they joined the military. And that part of the memories began with… the Ishbal Massacre.

They had only met in the blood and sand of Ishbal near the end of the Massacre. State Alchemists had only been deployed about a year before the end of the war, and _she_ was only sent about eight months before the massacre's end, for she had not yet graduated from the academy at that time. They had not seen each other for so long, and killer's eyes were what greeted each other. In comparison to the other places and situations they had met in, this was the most inconvenient of all.

Then there was the time when he trusted her with his back just like she had trusted him with hers, and asked her to follow her. That was the renewal of their pact, and since then she had always followed him everywhere, not complaining even once. Always two steps behind him, wherever he went, always protecting his unguarded back.

But then there was the time when she was taken hostage by the Fuhrer, and they'd not met a lot then. They no longer shared the same office and she could no longer drive him home as well as he could no longer drive her home in return. That part of their memories was no one's fault but his, he insisted, because he was the one who was too curious, too bold to prove that King Bradley was a homunculus.

The most frightening memories were the ones they got from the coup. _His_ planned coup, assisted by her and his other subordinates (now not ex-subordinates anymore, since they drifted from the military for _him_. That made him feel special). She had almost died in the coup _twice_, and both times were caused by _his_ faults. He still often thought about it until now. If only he hadn't been consumed by rage and anger, if only he hadn't been blinded by revenge, she wouldn't have gotten that shoulder wound. If he had been quicker and swifter and mightier, he would have been able to save her from the gold-toothed doctor and his ex-Fuhrer-candidate pawns. She would have no idea how relieved he was when he found out her wounds were not as major as he had thought and it would heal very soon.

She, too, would agree if he said their little rebellion held most of the frightening memories. No, she didn't fear her own death- her reasons differed from his. It was _his_ death she had been scared of. He would never know how scared she was when he disappeared in the middle of that transmutation circle and Bradley said he wasn't sure if Mustang would come back with all his limbs. He would never know how she felt guilty about his eyes, for it all happened because she had been inadequate. If only she was strong enough, if only she hadn't let her guard down, he would have never lost his eyesight. She was very relieved when he had gotten his eyesight back. It was rather selfish, really, but she was relieved that she did not have to add another guilt to the guilt she had to carry for the rest of her life.

At the end, he had not reached one of his goals: to become the Fuhrer – or not yet, anyway. But at least he could atone _a bit_ of the sins he committed in Ishbal: he had been given the chance to help reviving Ishbal. And they were still together, at the very least. His goals might not have been all complete, he might not be able to protect all around and below him yet, but at least they were still together. And when they were together, nothing was impossible.

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**A/n: And so that is it. The end of the story and the end of the collection. I wish you a very Happy Royai Day for this year, and happy holidays too! See you after I come back from mine, probably with chapter 8 of 'Snapshots' and the epilogue of 'Letters'. I have concentrated too much in this project that I neglected those two. And while I might not be able to reply to your reviews or PMs (for FFm doesn't seem to allow me... and every FFN address I type in my phone is automatically redirected to FFm...), review, please! I want to hear (or read) your opinions for the one last time!**

**Oh, anyway... Thank you for sticking with me these twelve days. Special thanks to those who reviewed (and will review) and favorited, especially to the reviewers! You guys rock.**

**One more thing, I promise. Only one more thing. There are so many versions of this etude (op 8 no 12) on Youtube, and there's even Scriabin's own playing, but I still recommend Horowitz's. Thoroughly.**


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